


You’re my Destiny

by jetblacklilac



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-07 20:17:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14088843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetblacklilac/pseuds/jetblacklilac
Summary: Luke Skywalker is a prince of the Republic. He is on his way to becoming a Jedi but his stipulation is that he travels around the world before joining the renowned and elite society. Sansa Stark, the daughter of one of the Queen's most trusted advisers, is asked to welcome the prince to her hometown for a week or two. This is only a stop in Luke's journey but it could be his last stop.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like this will be a slow burn and updates to this might be slow as well. honestly, if you like it, let me know wi comments and such!!

Six hours; that’s the duration of the flight they endured. By far, it is one of the longest flights Luke had to sit through. Even at first class, with the television screwed on the head of seats, cocktails and delectable served to them, he still retained the frenzied energy. He’d bounce his knee, hands tapping against his jean clad thighs, and the movie merely serves as background noise for him. 

He glanced down at his journal; it was nothing special, the tawny leather cover had minuscule cracks on it but Luke cherished it like some ancient scripture. A checklist covers pages of the notebook which consisted of the continents and the subcategories are of the cities. Europe has been crossed out. Now, his pen hovers over the name that has been underlined repeatedly.

_ America : _

_ Winterfell _

The unchecked bubble simultaneously taunted and reminded him of his journey. This made him smile. It isn’t Luke’s fault his veins are electrified with agog. Rather, the entire reason as to why he’s even in a flight, roaming all around the world, is written down on with coal ink and is presented in various checked and empty bubbles and columns. 

“So all it takes to get your hyperactive ass to calm down is to show your bucket list? I should’ve done that instead of buying you the dozens of sleeping pills.” A rough and detached voice scoffed. It belonged to his driver and friend, Han Solo. The man had messy clay-brown hair, a clear cut jawline; his lush mouth had a perpetual ghosting smirk as though he constantly hides remarks beneath his tongue. As of the moment, he’s leaned back against his seat, eye mask rests on his face and he had his large hands neatly folded on his lap.

Luke huffs a breath. “I won’t take those pills. It’ll take all the suspense away.” He reminds his bodyguard. He closes the notebook with the pen still wedged in the middle part of it. He glanced at the other passenger of the flight as Han attempted in regaining his sleep back then stared at the television screen in front of him.

If Han didn’t wear the mask, Luke would see his cinnamon shaded eyes roll heavenward. “Yeah and you’re taking away my sleeping hours. So stop moving around and let me sleep. You dragged me through Belgium for a whole week and Germany the week before that.” He complained then manoeuvred his body away from Luke. 

A series of mechanical chirps made itself known in their conversation. The origin of the sounds was a little droid, it wasn’t even the latest model. It had blue and powder white. The gears created movement and it stood at the side of Luke’s chair.

“See, your little robot agrees.” Han says and adjusts the sleeping mask on his face. His long legs stretched out before him and his arms splayed on his torso. “And Chewie if he was awake.” 

Luke rolls his eyes. “R2 definitely doesn’t agree with you. And he’s a droid not a robot.” He corrects for the umpteenth time. If someone had paid him each time he had to correct Han, he’d be able to purchase a yacht. 

His bodyguard’s snores answered him and he briefly wondered how many sleeping pills he took. And a seat behind him, stood a massive giant of long shabby tawny-brown fur fanned around so much it obscured the dark eyes and mouth of the Wookie, snoring like the person in front of him. 

There were selection of movies to choose from, romantic comedies, action movies (one of them was Indiana Jones, Han’s favourite) and a bunch more. He didn’t pay attention to any of them and instead gazed out on the airplane window; the airplane wing gliding thousands of feet from land, and clouds hovered over cities he knew only in name. 

His fingers drummed against the perspiring glass of orange, its droplets forming a circle on the service tray. Their pilot announced only a few more hours left in the clock until they arrived. Luke couldn’t wait a second more. He stared at the on-going movie; it was strange and had spaceships and ridiculous men in robes that had him chuckling. The cosiness of the seat he has is beginning to lull his senses; even the buzzing ecstasy that has been electrifying him throughout the hours before. He yawned and curled up in his seat, falling asleep to the sounds of the eccentric movie.

“Kid, we’re here.”

That lone sentence cuts through his obscure and shapeless dream. He fluttered his eyes open and is met with the sight of Han, his hand on his knee and he keeps on waving the free one in front of him. Luke straightens against his sit and stretched his limbs. He follows his bodyguard at the exit of their plane.

The first thing Luke noted of Winterfell is it nearly reminded him of Hoth. Yet, he could see the slopes of numerous buildings in the horizon. Bites in the wind couldn’t be felt by them because they donned the thickest winter wear they could acquire. They both climbed down the steps and were greeted by an escort. Leia informed him that she fortunately knows someone who lives here and they were kind enough to be his tour guide for his stay.

The envoy consisted of two muscular men, beards swallowing half of their cheeks, solemn long faces, and thick sweaters and scarves for clothes. One had jet-black hair with a top knot and the other had curls of brown brushing on his forehead and the shell of his ears. They nearly looked like siblings form a vantage point. 

But the woman between them, Luke noticed, is utterly breath-taking. He has never seen fire in someone’s hair before, flowing on her shoulders like sunset against her pale skin. He almost felt hesitant to touch her soft locks not that he’d ever have the chance to. Her eyes were bright and welcoming, an akin to warmth bloomed in his chest the more he keeps on assessing her. 

Like her company, she wore thick sweaters, pants, and her jacket had fur lined on the hood. She smiled. Luke mimicked her action without knowing it. 

“Hello, sir Solo and sir Skywalker. My name is Sansa Stark, these are my brothers Robb and Jon.” The beauty welcomed them with a civil tone. The mentioned men merely nodded their heads. Formality appears to be passed down in them.

“Please call us Luke and Han.” Luke said in ease and he bounced on the balls of his feet. The latent excitement now nearly buzzed in his bones. In addition is the woman, so beautiful and rare. Just like the place they’re at, he supposed.

R2 produced a nervous chirp and to that, the trio’s faces morphed into alert ones and scanned their surroundings. 

Luke laughed and patted the droid’s head while Han scoffed. “’m sorry but R2 is a very shy droid.” He apologises, looking down, he smiles in comfort.

“Droid?” Jon questioned aloud, his expression was of disbelief.

Robb tilted his head to the side. “I’ve only heard of it.” He confessed. 

Their gazes lowered to Luke’s knees where the topic of their conversation hides. Slowly, as though it realizes everyone was staring at it, the wheels moved and it not stood between their groups. The men gazed at R2 with interest meanwhile Sansa’s face glowed with awe.

She bent down on her knees and idly traced her fingers down the ridges of the droid’s surface. “Does the little one have a name?” She asked, her focus still pouring all over the eccentric technology. Her eyes glittered, like snowflakes gleaming under the sun’s rays and her soft lips curled in a beam.

“R2-D2 but R2 for short.” Luke answers. He’d answer every question she has if it meant listening to her lulling voice. 

Jon cleared her throat and the sound disrupted Sansa’s bubble of admiration. “Come on, sister, let’s bring our guests back home.” He gently says.

Sansa nods and stands up. She wipes her pants but her gaze lingers on the droid. “I’m sorry but Robb, remember when father used to tell stories of the Republic? And now, it stands so close to us.” She marvelled, her joy is evident by the excitement in her voice.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Han open his mouth, most likely to utter a snide comment but he elbows him and the brunette clamps his mouth shut.

The one named Robb nodded with a smile for his sibling. “Yes and we can discuss more of our childhood in the manor.” He affirms.

Chewie gave a loud roar. 

Sansa shrieked while the men flanked at her sides had expressions of great worry. The Starks turned their attention to the Wookie, marching towards them. His heavy footsteps dug deep in the snow. Their blanching faces are slowly turning paler than the snow.

“Don’t you guys worry! Chewie here behaves. Well unless you win at chess against him.” Han assures and pats one of the fur covered arm.

Robb titled his head to one side, amusement is written on the small quirk of his mouth. “Chewie? The Wookie’s name is Chewie?” He marvelled. Jon chuckled.

“Yes but it’s short for Chewbacca.” Luke supplies. 

Sansa kept her eyes on Chewie, the fear flushed away and is replaced by intrigue. “Lovely name.” She uttered. She shakily smiled when the Wookie lets out a roar once more but more it’s an answering tone than of making an entrance. The redhead glanced at the men behind her and nodded. “We shall escort you to the hotels and have lunch.” She announces and turns to walk down a path. 

Sansa’s posture is erect and her chin high in the air as though a crown rests on it. Some people inherit the throne, Luke ponders in subtle awe, and some have royalty flowing in their blood.

Luke’s eyebrows furrowed together as he witnessed R2 racing in the snow, creating lines as trail, and ambles next to Sansa and Robb. He turns to Han who merely laughed. It appears as though he isn’t the only one smitten by the redhead beauty.

They all filed in the Hummer with Robb driving, Sansa in the front seat, and Jon wedged between the two of them. There’s a palpable air of awkwardness. Robb increased the volume of the radio, beats and lyrics of the pop songs drifts around them. R2 sits in the trunk but doesn’t seem to mind since its focused on the road behind them. Chewie managed to fold himself to fit in the very back with the droid. His attention is clear on R2 rather than the new surroundings they’re in.

“How’d you meet my sister?” Luke wondered. He leaned against the window. The scenery is almost barren. Edifices of bakeries, boutiques, and coffee shops pass by as the car travels down the road. There were people who manage their establishments; some were families or couples milling around. 

“We went to the same college and classes. She’s a delight in political science. Oh the debates we participated in were legendary.” Sansa is fondly recalling her memories with a wistful tone. At this angle, she’s a symmetric masterpiece. With the perfect slope of her nose and the dip on the ridge, her lips pink and tempting, and her thick lashes fluttering in poetic motion; she’s perfection all with once glance. 

“So, Father told us you’re planning to become a Jedi?” Robb questioned, his words roughened by his accent and he took a glimpse from the headboard mirror to inspect him.

Luke nods, his honey locks following the action. “I’ve wanted to become one since I was very young. It’s an honour to be serving my sister.” He answers politely. All his life, he carried this conviction of joining the Jedi, protecting their realm and the queen; his sister. As a prince, he didn’t have much to do since all the royal duties slid on her shoulders. The only thing he should be doing, his mentor Obi Wan once said, is to keep out of the tabloids and inflate the monarch’s ego. 

Eventually, the aforementioned manor rose in their field of vision; the towering height drowned them in its shadow. Robb paused by the onyx-black gates, imposed with two pale and on-going walls on its sides. He rolled down the window to announce his name to the small rectangular intercom. A second later, a red dot lip up and the gates groaned in welcoming its guests.

Starks certainly live up to the wealth and luxury of their ancestry’s name. The manor is no doubt the Stark’s ancestral home for the dull bricked edifice exuded an olden air swirling around it. It’s painted entirely in slate and the side-gabled roof is of ivory with balustrades lined along it. Windows are in equilibrium with elaborate pediments and had cream curtains draped on either side. Luke counted more than a dozen of them. Symmetrically trimmed bushes lined up the sides of the porch. A balcony extended at the second floor and at the front of the house. It came complete with Greek pillars towering on the porch. Their front yard was barren except for the pristine grass that would’ve gleamed if not for the layers of snow on top of them.

When the transport is parked along the other vehicles, they all exited it. There were servants who went behind the Hummer and opened the trunk. They all let out a shout and seeing R2 and heard the droid happily greet them in a sequence of chirps. Chewie leapt out of the opened door and it wouldn’t be a surprise if the staffs fainted. 

“Sorry for that!” Luke apologised and assisted in droid in landing on the ground. 

Han guffawed at the terrified faces. 

“There’s lunch waiting for us.” Jon informs with in a cool tone.

“Sweet rides.” Han complimented, his thumb jerked at the line of shined cars. It isn’t a surprise he’s impressed by models and brands of cars. Though Luke’s bodyguard isn’t a proud owner of any glamorous car, he prides himself in constantly repairing his “Millennium Falcon”. 

Leia, upon hearing the name for the first time, giggled. “Why is it named millennium? Does it take a thousand years to get it started?” She teased.

Luke smiled at that memory.

“Thank you.” Robb replies without so much as honest acceptance of Han’s words. Were the Starks as cold and aloof as winter?

Together, they walked across the front yard. Their steps marked deep in the snow and created liens of shoe marks that led to the foyer of the manor. A rush of warmth slid past Luke’s jackets the moment he stepped inside. Everyone shrugged off their coats and so did he.

Thunderous footsteps boomed against the wooden floor, sharp taps of nails simultaneously broke in the quiet air. Three daunting wolf-like creatures emerge from a corner of the wide hallway they’re at. Two out of the three,  stood in their massive, shades of black and grey in their furs. Between the three, there was a more graceful gait on the direwolf than on the right. Yet the last one had a coat of pearl-white; almost like the layers of snow had limbs and is approaching them. Each of the menacing direwolves went to their respected masters heartedly knelt and heartedly greeted them.

Luke turned and saw the slackened jaw of Han’s. “Direwolves.” They both concluded in unison. Only tales of the violence inhibited in them are what reached their ears Now, they witness a gentleness that greatly with what they heard.

“We apologise if our  _ pets _ frightened you. They won’t bite. Well, not until told so.” Robb said though his words conveyed little sympathy for them. His direwolf brushed its large hand and Robb pets him.

Luke diverted his attention from Han shooting bizarre questions at the two men to Sansa, who was attending to her lovely direwolf. He approached her though R2 seems much more confident rolling on its wheels than whim with his shuffling of feet. He observed her direwolf mirrors Sansa. Gentle, quiet, and she curls herself on Sansa’s leg. “What’s the name?” He asks.

Sansa stood up but her hand is buried on the shined fur. “Lady; it’s silly but she acts like one.” She answers and looks down to see Lady rubbing her nos eon Sansa’s open palm.

R2 left Luke’s side and presented itself to Lady. A tiny screwdriver popped on the droid’s front and poked her side. The direwolf in return, sniffed its rough surface then jumped around it, barking in delight. Her brothers joined her is assessing the droid in their animalistic manner meanwhile R2 happily chirps and wheeled around the floor. 

It didn’t go unnoticed by the direwolves that another being that isn’t human lingered in their halls. They approached the Wookie with intended caution but Chewie didn’t share the same concern as he flopped down on the floor. Sensing a friendly air, the direwolves nipped at his arms and R2 chirped even more at this.

“Now, we eat!” Robb exclaimed and led their group down the hall and a twist to the right.

The dining room had an oblong mahogany table at the very centre of it. Cushioned chairs lined around it and on the table were plates. Utensils arranged specifically on the smooth surface. The hosts and the guess sat around. Luke sits next to Han and luckily across of Sansa. 

The food they served was native of this land. It was one of the reasons why he pleaded with his mentor, Obi Wan, to allow him on his journey. The rich and vast experiences every country has to offer are the very foundations of his towering curiosity. Reading about various cultures isn’t enough. Luke wants to be taught first hand of their heritages and ways of life that are different from what he grew up with.

Chatters of civil topics were uttered; weather, the state of their flight, and subjects that could’ve been printed on cue cards. Han throws a in a sentence or two between eating the pliable meats and drinking the sweetest of wine from their cellar. Luke and Jon discussed their looming deadline in joining the Night’s Watch and the Jedi council. Sansa, seated on the right of Robb, observed and lightly talked with her older brother. 

“I guess we’re both heading towards the same thing but I won’t protect any queen. I’ll only monitor trespassers on the most Northern part of this land.” Jon points out. His stance was as rigid as the chair he sits on. The subtle frown on his pink lips frowns heavy as he assesses the guest before him.

Luke dabs the corner of his mouth with the linen napkin on his lap. “True but I’ll also serve the Republic. Joining these elite groups is considered the highest of honour.” He eases with an amiable voice. There aren’t much differences between them and it fascinates him on the evidences of their similarities.

“You can’t father children or get married then?” Sansa’s silk voice wrapped itself around his mind. The blue in her eyes appeared to pale at that thought. Or at least Luke would like to think that had happened. Perhaps the afternoon heat is reflecting on her smooth face.

Han snorted. “I think he’s the only prince that doesn’t get featured on tabloids because of a scandalous rendezvous.” He blithely comments. “Being his bodyguard and chauffeur, I’ve never seen him sneak anyone up in his chambers or anything in extreme.” He seems to be unaware of how he tossed this bit of information on the table. 

Luke concludes the stiff composure and shadowing frown is hereditary amongst the Starks. There wasn’t a lie in Han’s words. All his life, he wanted to continue and uphold the morals of the Jedi. His actions are fashioned in a manner that appeals in the behaviour of such a knight. He wouldn’t willingly dare to perform any slights which could cost him the chance of wielding a lightsaber.

He’d be married to duty. The older Jedi once told him. Yet for Han to sat it unceremoniously and for the hosts to receive it felt… odd. If he was keen enough to observe, he would’ve noted Sansa sitting straighter.

Robb chuckles; the sound was hoarse as though they aren’t used to laughter. “I think T would’ve recognized you if you were out with some supermodel.” 

“I would like to tour around. Show me a few landmarks and such.” Luke suggested. So far nothing has rolled under his expectations. Cold lands and maybe colder citizens.

“Sansa and Arya will do that. Maybe after you finish unpacking and our little sister returns from her basketball practice.” Robb answers his concerns. He stands and so does Jon. They both lowly bed their upper body. “It’s a pleasure to dine and to have you as our honoured guest.” 

Luke dips his head in acknowledgement.

They leave and the remaining trio is still seated with Han picking up grapes from the fruit basket and filling his palms. 

Sansa stood as well. “Let’s get you to your bed chambers.” She decided and as they left the staffs gathered the plates and utensils. This trio climbs on the unadorned carpeted stairs as it stretches upwards to the other sections of the manor. She pauses between the first two doors on her right. “If you need anything, please do not hesitate to call me.” She says with a smile.

“Thank you.” Luke replies. He admires how she’s such a sight to gaze at. She was like some invaluable painting that garners everyone’s attention. The smile retains on his soon even after she descended down the stairs. His beam widened at seeing R2 roll down the hallway and greeted him. “Hey, bud.”

“Right after I pack my last boxers, we are going to stretch our limbs in town.” The bodyguard exclaims. Without waiting a moment more, he closes the door behind him.

The bedroom assigned to Luke is minimally decorated yet it showcased a theme of elegance. A four post canopy bed with azure blue that coats the pillows and blankets. A bathroom and beside it, is the wardrobe. There’s even an installed onyx-bricked fireplace. The same windows he counted when he came in here are situated a few feet from the bed, the ends of it skimming on the smooth surface of the floor. His numerous luggage’s are placed at the foot of the bed. R2 explores the rooms with his chirps reporting on what 

Flopping on the mattress, his body bounces slightly at the impact. He fishes out his phone and immediately sues Facetime the first person that comes to mind. He grins as he is met with his twin. 

Her thick chocolate locks were braided heavily on her head but her posture is perfect, royalty perfect. The cinnamon in her orbs gleamed. “Hi, Luke!” Leia greets with fondness. She appears ot be seated on her office chair, where her documents and treaties are signed. Foreign dignitaries would visit from all over the world and be seated around that office, talk of diplomacy and if necessary, military tactics. 

“Hello, sis. How’s the crown?” He jested in reply. It was such a relief to see and hear her. 

She rolls her eyes; a manner not even the finest etiquette teacher could take away. “Golden and shiny. Anyways, tell me everything about your trip! Sansa is an absolutely amazing person!” She stated in much noted certainty; to have a weighted confidence from the monarch is an honour only few have.

_ Sansa,  _ he repeats in his mind and he tries not to smile too much at that. “Our trip was fine. And the Starks are really civil.” He answers.  He makes a conscious effort on not spouting out nonsense of what he thinks of Sansa. He goes on talking about the food, what they are to do but he pauses when the door opens, revealing Han with a quirked brow.

“Who you talking to, kid?” The brunette asked yet by the tone he already knows the answer. He snatches the phone from Luke and his grin curls into a smirk. “Hello, Your Highness. Missed me already?” He taunts.

Luke sits up, grinning at how his sister glowers fiercely at his bodyguard. But anyone with eyes can see how her face softens at the sight of her lover. “You’re all she talks about, Han.” He falsely whines.

“Don’t inflate his head even more!” She hissed but she fixes her focus back at him. “Nice to see you’re still competent with your job.” She deadpans.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Han replies; all three of them laugh.

The door flew open and Chewie entered the scene. He saw Leia on the phone’s screen and ran up to Han and it appears he wanted to hug the queen. He roared and flayed his arms in the air. 

“He isn’t here, Chewie! It’s a video call. How many times do I have to explain? This is technology!” Han frantically reminded his company as he ran around the room, the Skywalker siblings’ laughter ringing in the air, and Chewie shakes his head in stubbornness. 

R2 stood next to Luke’s feet and turned to him in question.

He holds his stomach as he tried to not be amused but it’s pointless. He could feel the tears in his eyes. “Oh, it’s just Chewie being himself.” He assures. 

R2 chirps in agreement. The comedic scene continues until Han stands on a chair, the phone over his head and Chewie finally gives up in his chase.


	2. Thin Ice but Thick with Hesitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please tell me what you think of this chapter!!

They hadn’t been able to continue with their evening tour since apparently Han slipped in the pills when Luke drank from his lunch. He slept throughout the evening and had woken up groggy. R2 rejoiced in its robotic ways and Han smirked. Luke knew what he had done with a mere smirk from the man.

Win Luke’s observation, Winterfell is bleak and the people are the only reasons for enduring such conditions. Ice and dull buildings rose and covered the land; if one could call it that because most Luke ever felt beneath his shoes is snow. One of Luke’s likings of Sansa’s hometown is the blatant absence of the paparazzi. In other cities, admittedly much developed than this one, the media stalks him with blinding flashes and never ending questions. A clamour of people has always been throwing questions at his feet whether he answers it or not; at times they didn’t even have merely sounds that buzz and ring in his ears. This has formed into an odd sense of tradition for him. Seeing as how he’s royalty, his entire life is published in articles and broadcasted on televisions. His every movement is critiqued by every form of social media.

When Luke asked his tour guide of this matter, she smiled as though he was a butt of an inside joke only the northerners comprehend. “It’s either they know who you are and don’t care or they don’t know who you are and don’t care.” Arya snorted at that and slapped her knee in laughter.

Luke met the spirited brunette on the second morning of his stay. She entered the dining room wearing a ratted loose hoodie obscuring her skinny figure and ripped jeans with pearl-white sneakers. Her eyes were chocolate dark, her caramel hair messy and looked as though the girl hasn’t seen a brush in her life.

After formally greeting him with a polite and clumsy courtesy, Arya sprinted to her brothers. _Jon is our half-brother, my prince._ Sansa coolly corrected him without ever so glancing at him. Luke swore her vacant face sent more chills than all of winter in Hoth. And he forgot to say titles don’t have meaning to him at the moment for those two words, my prince, felt war in his chest.

The aforementioned _half-brother,_ Jon, raised the freshman in the air as though she was a child. None minded because her delighted giggles went in harmony of Sansa’s and so did the guffaws of Robb and Jon. The eldest amongst them, he found out because Han googled them, messed up her loose hair even more and engulfed her in a hug.

She raced off to the kennels, screaming “Nymeria!” several times. The next second an audible thud on the ground was heard _woosh_ on the snow, a direwolf joyous barks and Arya’s laughter simultaneously served as music for Luke. When Robb had asked Arya, now seated next to Jon and across of Sansa, if she wanted to assist her sister for the tour, she eagerly participated.

“As long as we get to skate. I’m _sick_ of the nonsense of dribbling balls and passing them to other people. It’s awfully boring and exhausting. I am yours to be of use, _my lady._ ” She acquiesced with the last two words declared in a twisted accent. The two women giggled at its covert meaning. The men glanced at each other and resumed eating.

Their entourage left half-past nine since Sansa informed them she organized the landmarks and sighting in her planner. Luke admired her candy-coloured planner. Sansa lets him browse the contents with a simper. Her penmanship was swift and looped in perfect formation of the words. The cover of her journal was navy blue and almost silky on his fingertips. It was plastered with pastel and floral decorations that spread out on the dates and months on the pages.

The service they had was a sleek white spacious van. But when they are at a historic site or pass by a mall, they all climb down the vehicle and attentively listen to Sansa as she briefly explains the monument and such. Luke could tell that their group of newcomers and well known residents. Most of the townspeople nearly fainted in seeing the towering Wookie, roaring in amazing and Han, the only one understanding him, laughs and shakes his head. The people milling around in the mall asked for pictures with the droid, gushing about the amazement of technology and R2 agrees in a series of beeps that fascinated its audience. He also noted how people were terrified of the direwolves that amble along their owners; their eyes widen for a second or two and some even actively avoid their path.

“You should try lemon cakes, Your Grace.” Sansa suggested as she gestured to the pastel themed bakery shop with elegant flower arrangements on each table and the scent of pastries made his stomach rumble.

Arya bent her hand and scratched a spot behind Nymeria’s ear. “Highgarden’s bakery shop is far superior to any other. They have branches all over the world and I even heard they’re setting up in Dorne too.” She agreed and she sniffed the air, giggling when her direwolf mirrored her actions.

“I’m sorry no pets allowed.” A lean blonde with lapis eyes declared.

Chewie bellowed. Han is offended and quirked his brow at the said rule. “Hey buddy, if I were you, I’d use a flattering word than “pet” for my friend here.” He warned and crossed his arms across his chest.

The teenager gazed up at Chewie and his body trembled. He clutched the laminated menu in his small hands. “Um, I-I meant the direwolves. No dogs allowed.” He tremulously insisted and pointed to a sign by the cream door.

Arya rolled her eyes. “ _Buddy_ , direwolves and dogs are different. I’d prefer beasts because dogs don’t rip out a man’s throat when they annoy my Nymeria.” She blithely corrected. Her small mouth looped at seeing the man’s nervousness practically attack this boy in waves. At the mention of her name, Nymeria bared her teeth, razor sharp and lethal to their skins.

The redhead stepped forward as though to shield the two smirking people. Perhaps because the people drinking and dining inside of the café were peering at them in caution and shifted on their plush chairs in discomfort. “How about you set up a table for us here outside? We won’t disrupt your lovely shop.” She ameliorated with an easy smile.

The boy frantically nodded and practically sprinted inside after telling them he won’t be a moment longer. There were other staffs that carried the table, brought out elaborate flower arrangements of white lilies and pink roses with crimson red tulips. Han volunteered to order for all of them and for the poking fun towards the staff, Chewie went with him.

“Father says you’ll be Jedi.” Arya pointed out. She sat beside her sister who is seated across of her.

Luke nods. “Yes I am. And my sister is ever so thankful for your father’s council. The crown needs every honourable and decisive people available.” He kindly says in return.

The brunette waves away the compliment. “Oh, none of that patting on the back formality. I want to know more about the Jedi. Do you carry a lightsaber right now?” She excitedly asked and bounced on her seat. The eighteen year old girl doesn’t seem to sense her older sister’s frown.

“I apologize, Your Grace. My sister pockets too seriously our father’s stories of the Republic.” Sansa amended and lightly swatted Arya’s arm. She tilted her head to one side, her sky eyes eyed him with shining curiosity. “But, do you have a lightsaber with you?” She went along to her little sister’s inquiries.

His hand drifted over the hilt of the aforementioned weapon but slid down his palm on his thigh. “Yes, I do carry it but Master Wan told me to never brandish it unless we’re in peril.” He lightly explains. _There is no honour in pride, young Padawan. You must detach yourself from such poisoning emotions._ Emotions, he echoed in his mind as he studies Sansa; her fiery locks braided intricately and flow down her back, her mouth always has a small smile. How can he untie the knot when it’s snugly tied around his chest, tugging and pulling him to the enchanting redhead?

Han returned to their table with a rectangular cement grey tray with Chewie in tow handling the same thing. He sits down as Luke retells the history of the Jedi Knights, gesticulating as he does and his voice conveying his genuine fondness of the society.  

The youngest within the group ordered a creamy rich milkshake that came with a New York cheesecake. Arya slips bits of the dessert to Nymeria and she enthusiastically enjoys it. Sansa has chai tea latte with a plate filled of lemon cakes. Han drinks from a cup of black coffee and Chewie gets a plate of brownies to which he indulges in.

Sansa gestured to the lemon cakes. “Here, Your Grace, let’s hope you’ll approve of it.” She suggested and a shy smile curled her lips.

“I will but on the only condition you have to drop the formalities, sweet Sansa. I’m no prince here in your town.” Luke negotiates and somehow her blush in infectious as his cheeks are warmer than the plate of squared cakes. He gingerly bites into the cake and the sugary sweet and lemon exploded in his mouth. He beams in delight and so did Sansa. “Lovely treat this is!” He exclaimed in joy.

Arya snatched a square and tears it in half. She lowers her right hand and Nymeria nibbles on it. Sansa does the same with lady but her direwolf’s actions were more controlled, like truly of a lady. “It’s the sweetest thing to ever exist!” She said in joy as she tossed a piece of the cake in the air which her direwolf effortlessly caught with her mouth.

_Lemon cakes do not compare to your sister._ Luke silently countered. He brought his tall glass of smoothie closer to his mouth and sipped its contents, smiling in the cool satisfaction exploding in his mouth.

“I think I want to be a Jedi. Fighting for what’s right. Plus, you get a cool lightsaber.” The brunette concluded after attentively listens to Luke’s stories and the rich background of his desired society. There was innocence to her conviction that reminded Luke of him when he was young. His little body sprawled on the Persian rug, his eyes widens in wonder, as he listens to Obi Wan retell his adventures when he was a Jedi knight. Leia sits next to him on the couch and seems to be listening but not as much as Luke who pocketed these stories with determination.

Sansa nods. “That is a lovely idea but you’re in college to be a lawyer. You know they have some similarities.  Both eager to fight for what is right and protect the innocent.” She pointed out in ease.

Arya snorts after sipping from her milkshake. “Yes well it’s far less complicated than being the United States Diplomat. Politics is hidden, you know? Like a battle that happens in the shadows.” She swirled her pink lined straw through the smooth liquid in the glass she holds. “I don’t know. Father makes it so easy; do the right thing in morally right methods but what about the opposing side? They aren’t necessarily as honourable as us.” She muttered and slouched against the chair. For en eighteen year old, she made an impression of maturity beyond her years. The Starks are far more interesting than they let on. Luke unfairly assumed their thoughts are similar to their father; the rigidly honourable Ned Stark who dutifully served the Republic.

“You must anticipate what this opposing side might do and start from there. But make sure you retain your heart in this. You mustn’t be what you’re trying to stop.” Sansa advises her voice smooth like scotch and Luke felt inebriated at the constant blessing of hearing her talk.

“Chewie, you can’t ice skate. I don’t care if you saw Her Highness do ballet. It’s not the same thing. I bet you’ll fall on your ass under five seconds in the rink then break the ice and be a frozen Wookie Popsicle!” Han’s distressed voice broke any further discussion as his argument with his Wookie is now known to them. They remain oblivious to the other people around their table as the brunette arched a brow in challenged.

Chewie roared in reply. The nearby waiter nearly allows the tray on his hands to fall to the ground. He shakily enters the café with a blanched face.

Han laughs and shakes his head. “We can’t try it here. And besides, Luke probably wants to check out some dusty ass thrift bookstore.” He snorted. He then twisted his body away from his friend to fetch his mug but noticed their audience. He glanced at Luke then smiled as though it could explain their conversation. “So, um, how’s the shake Luke?” He questioned and to no avail did the awkwardness leave them.

Arya snickered. “So, the Wookie wants to dance? Lucky for you, we have a frozen lake not so far from the manor. We could go there and see if he has the grace.” She suggested and slurped the last contents of her shake.

“Is it alright with you?” Luke questioned Sansa. The redhead’s nimble fingers clasped on her journal and studied him with interest.

She smiled. “I supposed it would be rude to deny any of our guests’ requests. Come then, let us enjoy that childhood lake once again.” She invites them and stands up. She tosses a grateful look at the servers whom Han and Arya teased.

It didn’t take a long time to return back to their castle. Sansa informed them that when the Stark children were young, they genuinely believed they lived in some grand edifice that royalty would utilize to rule the lands with power. Eventually with sense that came in aging, they realize it was merely a vast mansion where decades of Starks have lived. But, Arya argues, there isn’t anything wrong with clinging on to a childish notion if it meant to brighten up their place.

As promised, their van rounded up at the back of the towering mansion. Thickets of trees formed a loose circle around an indeed frozen lake. A few of their staff sets up a table with thermos of hot chocolate and folding chairs at the edge of the wide lake while the guests and hosts scramble to put on the ice skating shoes the Starks’ always keep in store. They laughed at how saddened Chewie reacted to having no shoes his size.

“I’m sure the ancient lake can handle your weight, Chewie! And if not, well, you get one thermos of hot coco to yourself.” Sansa soothes his worries and briefly embraces him. She grins as the Wookie patted her back and padded to Han who was exchanging sportive theories with Arya.

They all gathered at the edge of the lake, it spreads out in icy vastness he couldn’t see the other end. His attention turned to Arya, who was smirking in delight; a troubling expression since it is made known how much she loves this activity. “Okay, my Prince, Han, Chewie, this is ice skating; one of the few pleasurable things in Winterfell aside from our aloof personalities. And I wouldn’t want the royal army to march down here if any of you are physically compromised. So, let’s team up!” She decided. “I’ll be with Han and Chewie while my sister will be with Prince Luke.” Without waiting for comments on her decision, even though she was the youngest in the group, she waved her hand in invitation to the men.

Luke could’ve seen the triumphant glint in the freshman’s dark eyes but he instead focused at how Sansa’s cheeks tinged with a slight shade of pink. _Is he embarrassed or delighted?_ He kept the question to himself and shuffled over to her, bending his elbow. “Shall my lady teach me to dance?” He requested in a faux posh accent that made them both giggle.

Sansa bent her knee and did a curtsey. “It will be my pleasure, sweet prince.” She acquiesce and their shoes made contact with the smooth surface.

The prince, His Highness, in line to the throne, nearly fell face first on the frozen lake with a high pitched yelp that certainly didn’t belong to someone who aspires to be a Jedi. He frantically grasps Sansa’s reaching hands and opened his eyes to see the beauty genuinely concerned for him; not at all mocking as he would’ve assumed. That can’t be said for Han and Arya who had been leaning on Chewie for support as they cradled their stomachs, their laughter curling as mist in front of their faces.

“Don’t mind them. When Arya was five, she twisted her ankle and cried for hours because Jon told her they’d have to amputate her.” Sansa whispered, the cool of her breath seeped deep into the skin of his cheek. He shivered from her cold and not of her land. She gazed at him with kind eyes and a smile that could melt all of winter in her hometown.

Luke felt the heat on his face increase as he held on to Sansa tighter. “I was taken surprise by it, that’s all.” He muttered with chagrin.

“Nice save, kid!” Han’s distant taunt echoed to them. He then turns to Arya and Chewie, gesticulating and converses in the gruff voice of his. “Chewie, no don’t lean _too much_ on Arya. She’s a tiny little thing. Look at her, you’d probably kill her if you fall atop of her.” He chastises his friend.

The tiny brunette huffs a breath and glowers at his bodyguard. “I’m not tiny! And I’m quick so I won’t let Chewie suffocate me!”She protested. Though by now, she’s puffing breaths as she tries ot blanace her weight against of the massive Wookie who was timid about the lake. “Oh, _relax_ , Chewie! We’ll be fine.” She coos and stretches her arm to pat a furry bicep. “relax and don’t move in frenzy. It’s all about balance.”

“Like the force! Balance is everything when one handles a lightsaber.” Luke agrees, his hand clenching on Sansa’s soft hand with a shaky smile. He couldn’t take his eyes off his hazy reflection on the lake for fear something would happen; a crack on the surface, him losing his footing, and Sansa seeing how pathetic he is. Surely her refined image of him is now getting more vivid with disappointment.

He tilted his chin away from his own face as he felt Sansa shift to stand before him. Their hands are still connected, thank the heavens because she’s the only reason why he hasn’t fallen on his rear so far.

“Your Grace, you’re right. Balance your weight on both of your feet then slowly put one foot in front of the other. It’s like learning how to walk again.” Sansa instructs and her fingers slip away from his.

Luke is sure to not chase after her gentle touch because he’d surely create a crack with his nose. He spreads his arms, breathing heavy with anxiety, but his focus pours all over the confidence she appears to have for him. A microscopic inch away from his original place his right foot is barely ahead of his left. He bit his lip and Sansa motioned for him to be nearer. _My Lady, I’d go to the ends of the galaxy for you._ He shakes his desperation and finally, really, makes a noticeable gap between his feet and Luke chuckles.

“You’re making progress! Now, here, I’ll walk with you and maybe we can skim along the ice like a pair of ballerinas!” Sansa suggested. Without any prompting, she reached down and interlaced their fingers together. She must’ve seen his shock for her face bloomed like a pink rose. “For safety measurements, Luke. I wouldn’t want you to fall on my watch.” She mutters, though half-assed in reasoning and more of an excuse.

_I think I will fall._ Luke thought in a daze as he falls in step with his tour guide.

His worry about skating melts away as he hears the warming laughter of his friends and Sansa’s little sister, giggling and racing between them in an admirable speed. Though Han can paddle like a new born penguin, Chewie ‘s progress is far less advanced as he merely stands still so he won’t stumble and damage the frozen lake they’re on. Arya, having years of practice behind her, dances on the icy surface as though it is a smooth floor instead of a thin layer of ice.

“I think I got the hang of this!” Han exclaimed in wonder. He curses when Chewie pokes his arm. “Don’t do _that_!” He shrieks. He waves over at Arya who was petting Nymeria by the edge of the lake. “Hey, kid, just stay there. I think I can walk like a toddler now.” He says with a promise.

 Arya snorts and sits on the snow, Nymeria’s head on her lap and the girl cards her hands through her thick fur. “Sure thing and while I wait for you to hurt yourself, I’ll drink hot coco. Come on guys, you better get it while there are still marshmallows!” She announces as she holds up a mug and tips the grey thermos on the mouth of it.

Luke shifted his gaze to Sansa. Still, he marvels, how a breath is caught in his throat at the sight of her, the red in hair almost hurt his eyes because of the rare beauty she has. _And a kinder heart._ “I think I can manage by myself.” He says, testing his theory by reluctantly slipping his fingers from hers.

 Sansa nods and scoots away. His first instinct was to hold her again, to feel the brush of her coat against his, but he bits his tongue and nibbles on the inside of his cheek. Distantly, Han is scrambling on his ice skating shoes, arms flailing, and Chewie is holding on to him as an anchor would search for something to latch upon. None of that mattered because Luke’s objective is to be nearer to Sansa once more.

And he did.

After a few near smashing his nose on the ice incidents, they both laughed at loud at how they clutched each other and grins widening their faces.

“You’ve improved at a much faster than that I ever did. It took me weeks to stand on ice.” Sansa mused and her hands curl on the ends of his elbows.

_I was inspired._ “Well, being a Jedi does require us to be swift in adapting to one’s situation.” He told her with a small laugh.

Sansa’s reaction is a curious one. An emotion he couldn’t quickly decipher passed through her face, something akin to a conclusion cemented in her mind. She then straightened herself and her smile didn’t reach her lovely eyes. “Yes well, we have to thank the Jedi Council then.” She lightly commented.

Luke almost loathed on how the amiable atmosphere shifted between them, he _feel_ it like snowflakes skimming past his chilled skin. He would’ve roped those words back in his throat so everything isn’t- _this_ , the unmentioned cloud hovering like a taunting icy storm.

“Hah, we beat you guys!” Han exclaimed in his victory though he was still notably leaning on Chewie; the Wookie too busy catching the snow on his furred arms. He took a sip of his mug of hot chocolate and smacked his lips in satisfaction. “This is good, Stark.”

Arya chuckled. “I only accept compliments of ‘exceedingly delectable’ and beyond that.” She offers, her large perpetually inquisitive eyes land on her older sister and their guest. “Don’t be shy now or I’ll drink all of this in one go and you’ll have to burp me, my sweet sister.” She teases, kissing Nymeria’s snout.

Without even thinking about it- because around _her_ his mind only thinks of winter roses and lush hair with lemon in it- he steps forward and pours them cups. He slyly makes sure their gloved hands slide for a second more, revelling in the heat that seeps in him. He is gingerly sipping at his mug. “This is brilliant, Miss Sansa. One of a kind and downright addicting this one is!”

Han, not having to understand the definition of tactful or even polite, smirks at what he hears. “What is addicting, _Mr_ Skywalker? Is it the drink or something else far more delicious than what you’re drinking?” He wondered in farce wonder, his stance still sideward as he relies on his towering best friend.

Nymeria and Lady pad over to where the endless thickets of trees begin. The direwolves now play with each other, nipping at the other neck, upper body bent towards the ground before they sprint in a blur of clouds and ash; disappearing from their sight.

“I do not know what you’re insinuating.” Luke mutters, noticing how snowflakes _melt_ in the soft and silky mane of Sansa. _Like lava devouring ice in its natural fury,_ he thought.


End file.
